


Maybe, Probably... I Don't Know

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Bisexual Chandler Bing, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Related, F/M, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Feels, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Non-Canon Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sarcasm, Slash, Some Humor, Talking, True Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, implied sex, revealing feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: “You’re starting to worry me. There’s a real… desperate, hopeless energy in here.”Desperate. Hopeless. Boy did Phoebe find the exact words for this. Flattening a table cloth that isn’t there, when Chandler gathers his courage it’s she who blurts it out.“Oh my God! Chandler, you’re in love with Joey!” Her hand whirls in a circle, shifting the air like she's holding a magic wand.Mouth agape, he throws his arms to the ceiling. “What are you, a witch?! HOW DO YOU DO THAT?!”-Chandler's been pining after Joey for weeks. When he finally confides in Phoebe, she encourages him to tell Joey how he feels. Later, he gets some heartfelt advice from Monica and Ross.Not certain of what to do, all Chandler knows for sure is that he's madly in love with Joey Tribbiani. If he does decide to reveal his feelings, will Joey love him back? Will this put their friendship at risk if things go sideways?
Relationships: Chandler Bing & Joey Tribbiani, Chandler Bing/Joey Tribbiani, Phoebe Buffay/Mike Hannigan
Comments: 61
Kudos: 230





	1. To Capture a Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashkore_varg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashkore_varg/gifts).



> Thank you for giving this a chance. First fic for Friends! I've wanted to write for the fandom for years and I'm happy to begin with this pairing, my fav.  
> More tags to be added for future chapters to not spoil anything too soon. Rating teen and up for subject matter and occasional swearing in the chapters, though it may change, depends on what happens! ;)

It’s not a book he’s holding. It’s a thick stack of printouts held together by a three-ring binder. Chandler’s eyes move over the page, seeing the words and figures but not registering anything. Deciding that concentrating on anything work-related today is useless, he lets it drop to the cushion by limping his wrist.  
  
Chandler’s eyes squeeze into thin slits. The wrenching in his stomach stabs, he grabs his abdomen and exhales. Instead of reprieve, all he gets is a materialization of Joey’s smiling face.  
“Shit,” he whimpers, moving his blue gaze to blink up at the ceiling for a few silent moments. “Why do you hate me, God? WHY?!”  
  
This has been going on for weeks. He doesn’t know how much more he can take. The obvious is a huge blinking neon sign staring him in the face: he either needs to tell Joey how he feels, perhaps losing his best friend- or risk withering away from want.  
Chandler doesn’t eat when he’s anxious and he’s lost close to 4 pounds already.  
  
His focus snaps to the door when he hears a knock and a knob turn.  
“Joey?” Phoebe calls as she peers over the doorframe.  
  
“Hey Pheebs, come on in.” A long exhausted sigh helps him pull himself to his feet. “Joey’s not here. He’s got that movie audition after he’s done on Days.”  
“Oh yeah, I totally forgot,” Phoebe waves away her absentmindedness. Her colored bracelets clink as she searches for something in her purse.  
  
“Can _I_ help you with something or did you need Joey?”  
Stretching the ache from his sore shoulders, Chandler moves measuredly towards the counter.  
His troubled face is like a graveled parking lot.

Phoebe pulls out a chapstick and looks up. The lip balm drops to the floor.  
She shrinks away a moment, face contorted.  
“Oh my God, Chandler, you look awful!”  
  
With a tilt to his head, he smirks. “Thank you, Phoebe. Please come over more often, I don’t think my self-esteem is low enough yet.”  
She scrambles towards him. “Chandler, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Patting the top of his hand, she grins. “What I meant is you look like death.”  
His chortle morphs into a fake sob, propping himself up on the stool as he grabs the tiled edge.  
  
She’s right. Going by a perfunctory glance in the mirror this morning, he’s aged 5 years. He’s been keeping all this inside, and instead of eating, this secret is what’s eating away at him. Maybe he needs to tell someone?  
  
“Pheebs?”  
The heartrending tenderness of her gaze brightens the delicate robin egg blue in his eyes. Maybe getting this off his chest will relieve things- even a little.  
“Chandler, what’s going on? Are you okay?” In her questioning look there’s unquenchable warmth. “You’re starting to worry me. There’s a real… desperate, hopeless energy in here.”  
  
Desperate. Hopeless. Boy did Phoebe find the exact words for this. Flattening a table cloth that isn’t there, when Chandler gathers his courage it’s she who blurts it out.   
“Oh my God! Chandler, you’re in love with Joey!” Her hand whirls in a circle, shifting the air like she's holding a magic wand.   
  
Mouth agape, he throws his arms to the ceiling. “What are you, a witch?! HOW DO YOU DO THAT?!”  
“So it’s true!” Phoebe points at him, before covering her gasp with her palms. “I KNEW IT!”  
  
The confirmation is a tense nod. Chandler’s head drops onto his forearms.  
“Oh Chandler- “ she circles the counter and shadows him. “I had a feeling about this. Last time we all had dinner together, you kept avoiding his gaze and when he complimented you, you blushed like a schoolgirl.”  
“He said I was one of the smartest people he’s ever met,” Chandler replies, lower lip out in a pout.  
“I know sweety, I know… he’s always looked up to you.”  
  
“Phoebe… I’m miserable,” he squeaks, the ache in his chest making it hard to speak. "I love him so much! I can’t eat, I can’t sleep… the fact that it’s hopeless is consuming me. _Please mercy kill me_.”  
  
A rope of heat wraps around his slumped shoulders a second later, Phoebe resting her cheek to his hair.  
“I’m sorry this hurts, Chandler. Are you sure it’s hopeless? I mean, did you tell him and he turned you down?”  
Face wounded, Chandler shakes his dark head.  
“No, I’ve been keeping all this inside. I’m afraid if I tell him I’ll lose my best friend, Pheebs.” He forces himself to give her a wan smile. “He’s so special, you know? Funny, kind. Sweet and handsome. I can’t stop thinking about him. I don’t know what I’d do if he left because of this.”  
  
An intense, knowing light pours through her eyes. “I guessed right. You don’t just love him, you’re _in love_ with him, aren’t you?”  
Chandler bends to her until his face is only inches from hers, a hot tear rolls down his cheek.  
“With everything I am.”  
  
“Oh Chandler...” Stroking his back, Phoebe tilts her head in genuine concern. Her voice softens along with her expression.   
“If you don’t tell him, he won’t have the choice to love you back. You don’t know what he’s feeling. I see you two together almost every day, and I notice how he looks at you. Lingering gazes. You two doing little cute things for each other. That’s more than a little roommate kindness, but that’s only my opinion.”  
  
At hearing “lingering,” Chandler perks up.  
“Really? I mean- you think he might have feelings for me, too?” he stutters.  
  
Phoebe’s heart hurts for him. The way his sweet mug is clouded with such longing and earnestness… she’s compelled to cup his cheeks.  
“Chandler, tell him. If I’m right- what would you be missing out on right now? Think about it.”  
His lids flutter, watching her for a moment. “And if he doesn’t? And I lose him forever?”  
  
Phoebe kisses his forehead. Smooths some hair.  
“He forgave you for Kathy, he can get over you loving him, honey. It might be awkward for a while, but this is Joey we’re talking about. He can’t be away from you just as much as you want him near. It’ll be okay."  
  
Chandler’s throat thickens. He imagines what it would be like to come home to Joe- kiss him hello. They’d eat dinner together, then cuddle up on the same lounger even though they’d never fit comfortably. Next a movie, already knowing they wouldn’t get all the way through it because it’s just a pretense for a heavy make-out session (that would end up progressing into their bedroom).  
_Their_ bedroom.  
Wow. He’d finally discover what it would mean to fall asleep in Joey’s arms and greet the sunrise with a passionate kiss.  
  
“Maybe you’re right,” he breathes. “Maybe the right thing to do, no matter what, is tell him. If he doesn’t love me back, hopefully I’ll still be able to salvage something. Or at the worst, he locks me in a box again for a few days.”  
They both giggle, the tired sadness in his features easing a bit. Phoebe wipes away his tears with her thumb.  
  
Even if she’s only dropped a spark on the kindling, Phoebe is glad she convinced him.  
“Does anyone else know? Of us? I mean you said you’ve been keeping this inside?”  
“No.”  
His hands hang between his knees, playing with the hem of his sweater.  
“You’re the only one who knows, so please Phoebe, don’t say anything. I really don’t want to be embarrassed in front of them if it goes badly.”  
  
Phoebe wags her head back and forth, her tiny nose scrunching up. “I promise, this stays between us.”  
She turns on an afterthought. “Are you going to tell him tonight?”  
  
Sliding off the barstool, Chandler walks to the fridge and gets himself a beer. He might as well get a head start on the liquid courage.  
“I… I think so. I mean I’m going to find the right moment. The idea wasn’t to make a banner."  
She stifles a laugh.  
"Or- me handing him a slice of pizza and saying ‘Peperoni, Joe? Oh, and I love you.’ So, yeah, I hope there’s an opening.”  
  
A quick tug to his sleeve brings him close to Phoebe. He loses himself in her tight hug, the beer bottle balanced between his thumb and index fingers as it presses into her back.  
  
“It’ll be okay, Chandler. I promise. I’m proud of you.”  
“I hope you’re right, Pheebs,” he says exhaling deeply. “I really hope you’re right. Otherwise get ready to help me hunt for apartments." 


	2. Sweetness of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Loving him is just so easy. It’s like breathing, you know? It comes naturally.”  
> Chandler’s eyes fill with shifting stars, his chin resting on his curled hand. He thinks the more he talks it through, the better he’ll feel. Assurance might fuel confidence in the next act.
> 
> \- Chandler decides to ask Monica and Ross for advice. By the time Joey gets home, he's made up his mind about what to do.

Familiarity. A close acquaintance with something. Or so the dictionary says.  
But what happens when lines blur and familiarity bleeds into a need for connectedness? Intimacy?  
_  
  
“Loving him is just so easy. It’s like breathing, you know? It comes naturally.”  
Chandler’s eyes fill with shifting stars, his chin resting on his curled hand. He thinks the more he talks it through, the better he’ll feel. Assurance might fuel confidence in the next act.  
  
Chandler has never felt this way before. Sure, he’s had relationships, good and bad. He wasn’t immune to the exhilaration of novelty. But what his heart has been whispering to him over the past weeks- the almost imperceptible gasps striking breath when Joey looks at him a certain way… those things don’t lie.  
Perhaps it’s precisely their familiarity that sent him spinning.  
  
Navigating the apartment in the darkness is simple because he’s aware of his surroundings. Chandler’s memorized every angle, every nook. He knows where every sharp corner hides and where every light switch is located.  
He feels the same way about Joey. He‘s etched the perfection of his skin onto his mind. Where the muscles flex and relax under his taut flesh; where his face dimples. His likes and dislikes. None of these things are a mystery anymore.  
It’s like Chandler possesses an atlas, and he’s claimed the hollows and hills of Joey Tribbiani as his own.  
  
“I love him. That’s why I think we could have a chance. A sentiment that deep should have a fighting chance, right? What do you think?” Chandler asks.  
The duck quacks in agreement, its tangerine beak pointed to the ceiling as it flaps its wings.  
“I know, right? See, you’re a really great listener.”  
  
As he’s about to pat its head, footsteps disturb the silence. The muscles in his stomach immediately clench. Chandler jolts up.  
 _Is this Joey?  
_  
“Chandler? Joey? You home?” It’s Monica, who raps on the door a second later.  
“Just me, Monica,” he deflates. “Come in.”  
Wow, he’s popular today.  
  
First a hand reaches and then a dark head pokes past the door. “Chandler, honey, you busy?”  
“No. Just having a heart-to-heart with the duck.”  
“Can you come over a sec?” she asks in a breezy tone.  
“Sure, Mon.”  
Helping his pet down to the floor, he follows her out, shutting the door behind him.  
  
When they get inside the apartment, Ross greets him from the kitchen table, holding a paleontology magazine.  
“Hey Chandler.”  
“Oh hey Ross.”  
  
Laying eyes on him, Ross jerks his head back. “Chandler, you doin’ okay? You’re looking a little thin.”  
“You just saw me yesterday, what did I, shrink overnight?”  
Chandler examines himself, pulling on his sweater so it billows.  
  
Monica stops mid-stride, tilting her head. “No, he’s right. You do look thinner. Maybe it’s your baggy clothes? Have you been eating?”  
Jesus, does he look this bad?!  
“Not really, I got a stomach thing…” he drags out the words with a rub to his tummy. If it only it were that easy to explain away.  
  
From the stove, Monica stirs something in a steaming pot. “Well, come here. Taste this, it’ll get your appetite going. It’s a new chicken recipe for the restaurant.”  
  
A wooden spoon meets his lips, her hand cupped underneath it. Chandler blows on it for what seems to him to be an appropriate amount of time, then licks the contents off. He breaks into an immediate fit of coughing.  
“Oh my god, is this chicken seasoned with molten lava?!” he exclaims, fanning his tongue.  
  
Face scrunched up, her blue eyes are vivid and questioning. “Spicy?”  
“Spicy?!” Chandler resembles a lobster. “All of Sichuan called, they’d like their chile peppers back!”  
  
Ross bites off a laugh, closing his reading material and sliding it into his briefcase. “I told her it was too much.”  
“I’ll adjust the next batch," she decides. "It’s part of this whole thing about introducing a wider offer, so we’re trying some ethnic fusions.”  
  
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Chandler peeks at the contents of the other pots through a watery filter. All the simmering dishes looking equally “angry.”  
“Well, that must be a fun challenge.”  
Fixing a few strands from her forehead, she nods soberly. “Yeah, it is. Stressful, but good. It’s an attempt to try fresh ideas. We’re even serving coffee to kids now.”  
  
Ross quirks his dark eyebrows questioningly. “Wait, you give them coffee?!”  
“Yeah,” she looks over her shoulder as she sprinkles some basil. “Babyccinos.”  
“What the hell is a babyccino?” Chandler asks.  
“’It’s coffee for kids.”  
“What child needs coffee?” Ross chimes in, his face a question mark.   
  
Monica lets go of the spoon, jaw tensing. The utensil drops into the pot with a light clang.  
“Oh my God,” she exhales. “Am I having an aneurysm?! The coffee isn’t real, guys.”  
Emphasizing the point is the back of her right hand hitting her left palm with every word.  
“Jeez, Mon. Calm down,” Ross sniggers.  
  
Now that he’s in a better light, she inches closer to Chandler. The haggard expression on his face speaks volumes.  
“You sure you’re okay, sweety? You’ve got a troubling exhaustion to you.”  
  
Crap. So much for not telling anyone else. Between Curious Cathy over here and Neurotic Ned over there, they won’t let up for sure.  
  
“I’m… going through some stuff.” His speech is choppy, tone highly strung. Ross perks up, squinting. This is classic nervous Chandler. What the hell is going on?  
“Oh, what kind of stuff?”  
“Yeah honey, tell us,” she gives him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder. “We can help.”  
  
Chandler rubs the back of his neck, sky eyes wide in fear.  
Doubtful, he thinks, but it’s worth a shot, and not like he has a choice.   
  
“It’s difficult to talk about. I… I’m worried you’ll make fun of me.”  
“Why would we make fun of you, Chandler?” Ross cocks an inquisitive glance. “We’re your friends.”  
Oh, like that has ever stopped us, he wants to say.  
  
Monica wipes her hands on a towel and moves towards the sofa. “Yeah, come on, sweety. Sit down.”  
It would be difficult to keep this secret much longer. Perhaps they’ll offer him some advice. Support if nothing else?  
  
When he and Monica settle on the couch and Ross takes a place in the armchair, she smiles at him warmly. “Go ahead, hon. We’re listening.”  
  
Wow. This is the third time today he’s talking about this (that’s if you count spilling his guts to the duck).  
Studying them from under long lashes, he starts.  
“So, it’s been a few weeks that I realized…” the pause is not so much for effect. He collects a deep breath.  
“I’m in love with Joey.”  
  
His mouth falling open, Ross rests his elbows on his thighs. Monica’s fingers touch her parted lips, though she is not as astonished as Chandler had expected.  
“Our Joey?” Ross whispers.  
Chandler throws his hands in the air. “No, Ross. Joey Lawrence from ‘Blossom.’ YES our Joey!”  
  
A sneer disrupts Ross’ face. “’Have you ever considered a new look? I mean, seriously. You could have some definite potential buried under all that sarcasm.”  
  
Giving him an air swat as a reprimand, Monica scolds him. “Ross! Let him talk!”  
She turns back, facing Chandler. “Honey, I think that’s wonderful!” Her attentions are genuine. She closes her hand over his forearm warmly.   
  
It was just a theory that she’d kept to herself until now, but Monica’s been definitely picking up on something the last couple weeks. Chandler’s been acting oddly, well… more than usual. And Joey’s been showing him unexpected kindness… more than usual.  
  
“Is it? Is it wonderful? Because I’m miserable,” his voice arches. Chandler hides his face in his hands. “I’m not eating. Not sleeping. I just want someone to hold me and tell me everything’s gonna be all right. That he’ll love me back.”  
“So you’re planning on telling him?” Ross’ question is hurried.  
Monica spins around, her frosty glare spearing him. “Why wouldn’t he tell him, Ross?”  
“Yeah, Ross, why wouldn’t I tell him?” Chandler breathes, the whites showing around his irises.  
  
Boy, he did it now. Ross stumbles over his next words, trying to dig himself out of this.  
“It’s just… you’re best friends. If he doesn’t reciprocate, Chandler, the both of you living together and all. It might get weird.”  
  
That’s certainly crossed Chandler’s mind, oh, a thousand times! But hearing it from Ross doesn’t exactly make it any less scary, nor does it help!  
“Is he supposed to just sit on these feelings, Ross? If it were you, wouldn’t you want to know?” Her forehead creases in concern.  
“I guess,” he shrugs. “All I mean is it might get weird.”  
  
Chandler sighs unevenly, his face darkening. “So you’re already assuming he wouldn’t have feelings for me. Thanks for the ego boost, Ross.”  
“Chandler, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” he squeals, wringing his hands. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”  
  
Sliding further into the couch cushions, Chandler lets his head drop to the side. "Mon..."  
Poor thing looks forlorn, she muses. This is Ross’ fault.  
“He won’t get hurt, Ross, because Joey will love him back. You see how he’s been acting lately. He SHARED FOOD with Chandler. Joey doesn’t share food.”  
  
It’s as if a great discovery flashes across Ross’ face.“Yeah, you’re right, Mon." The more he thinks about it... "He had that date with the barista and called it off so he could keep you company when you had a fever a couple weeks ago, Chandler. Remember?”  
Ross has to admit with sobering honesty that he might have been wrong.  
  
“Yeah, I guess. But I’d do those things for you guys, too. Maybe he was just being nice,” Chandler replies brokenly.  
He honestly doesn’t know what to think.  
“Chandler, Joey shared his fries with you,” Monica repeats for effect, eyes saucered. “HIS FRIES.”  
“You know, Mon is right,” Ross agrees thoughtfully, circling the air with his index finger. “I think there might be something there.”  
  
“Have you told anyone else?” Monica asks, her expression tense.  
“Yeah, I asked the duck and the chick about it but they were no help,” Chandler waves aside the question.  
  
“A human, Chandler,” Ross asks with a roll of his eyes. “Have you told another _human_ about it.”  
“Just Pheebs.”  
  
Shit, the pots! Monica remembers about the food and springs up from her place. “I have to stir the chicken. Go on honey, what did she say?”  
  
“She said I need to tell him. Regardless of what happens, that we’ve got a great friendship and things will be okay.”  
“I think she’s right,” she replies with her back turned.  
Also Ross nods. “Yeah. I was on the fence a second ago, but I think Mon's got a point now. There might be something there. He deserves to know, and so do you, to put yourself at peace. You can’t go on like this, Chandler. It’s like you’re an ambulating ghost.”  
  
“I’m just so nervous,” Chandler gestures with a flourish of his arm. “I mean it’s Joey!”  
“So? You’re Chandler,” Monica replies, taking her place again on the sofa.  
  
“Precisely. I’ll just seduce him with my wily charm, after all, I am a graceful swan,” he snaps with unconvincing confidence.  
“Chandler…”  
Holding out his palms in apology, he shakes his head. “No one warned me how much being bi sometimes sucks. Now I get to embarrass myself horribly in front of both guys AND girls.”  
  
“And don’t forget twice the rejection…” Ross interjects, the uncomfortable giggle fading a moment later when he realizes they're glaring.  
  
“Ross?!”  
“Mon, dreadful news, you’re now an only child. Ross, did aliens forget to remove your anal probe?”  
“It was a joke, Chandler, I’m sorry.”  
“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Chandler mimics him.  
  
“Don’t listen to him. He got dropped on the head a lot. So when are you telling him, honey?”  
“Tonight.”  
Ross gasps. “Wow, tonight tonight?”  
“Am I invisible? Are you listening to me? Yes, _tonight_.”  
Chandler knows it might be foolhardy, but waiting won’t make any of this easier.  
  
“It’s just, Joey’s gonna be home soon,” Ross notes with a glance at his watch.   
Stroking the fabric of the couch, Chandler pushes down the tendril of terror coiling through him. “Maintaining panic starting now. _Do_ try to kill me.”  
  
Monica grips Ross’ arm above the elbow and clenches stiffly. “Ross, you’re useless, aren’t you? Now you’ve scared him.”  
“Oww!” Ross screams, rubbing the spot. “I forget how strong you are, Jesus!”  
  
Cupping Chandler’s cheek, a smile stretches broadly across her face. “It’s gonna go great. You’ll see. Just do it and get it over with.”  
  
Seizing a doubt, eyes as watchful as those of a man facing a death peril, he confides something he hasn’t told anyone.  
“Can I tell you guys something?”  
“Sure,” they reply in unison, leaning towards him in interest.  
  
“I’ve… I’ve never been with a man before. I mean, I kissed one once. “  
Chasing the memory, Chandler looks at something past Ross and his stare goes blank.  
“At least, I think it was a guy. It was dark and he was very pretty. Anyway, if things go well, I’m terrified of being bad, you know, at all the intimate stuff.”  
  
“Chandler,” Ross’ voice softens. “It’s just like being with women. You know, it’s the plumbing that’s different is all.”  
“Great. Because I’m already such an expert at snaking lady drains.”  
  
A taut laugh breaks the tension, which then turns into a rich tremolo.  
“Sweety,” Mon wraps an arm round him. “If and when you get there, it’ll be fine. And whatever you don’t pick up, I’m sure Joey will be happy to teach you.”  
  
“Wow.” The possibility of it all sinks in, rearranging the disbelief on Chandler’s face into one of wonder. He quiets in a moment of silent contemplation. “That might really happen, huh?”  
  
“It might. But it won’t if you don’t tell him. So get back over there, put on a clean shirt, and just be yourself,” Monica chortles, patting him between the shoulders.  
  
“Really Mon? Are you sure you want to tell me to be myself?” he quips.  
Ross does another of his shrugs.  
“Okay- you’re right. Be yourself without doing anything stupid.”  
“Mon, this is me. I do stupid in spades.”  
“Just get over there!” she helps him to his feet.  
  
Before disappearing out the door, Chandler swivels in place. “Thanks guys. It helps that you know.”  
“Oh shit,” Mon exclaims. “Rachel doesn’t. Do you want me to fill her in?”  
“Yeah, would you? At this point I don’t want her to feel left out.”  
She gives him a thumbs up. “Consider it done. Good luck, Chandler.”  
“Yeah, good luck, man. Let us know how it goes,” Ross salutes him from the forehead.  
  
“Well,” a long slow grin growing, “if you don’t see me for a few days it means he rejected me. I’ll be in bed eating the duck’s crackers waiting for the sweet release of death.”  
“Chandler!” she slaps the top of the sofa.  
“All right, I’m going. Thanks guys.”

_

Joey’s due home at any moment. Chandler ordered in, timed the delivery of the pizza so it would be hot once he returned.  
He’s staring at the boxes, fiddling with one of the bent corners.  
There are two kinds. One is Joey’s favorite- peperoni, and the other is meat lover’s, just in case Joe is super famished. The rest they can reheat tomorrow morning.  
  
Chandler doesn’t feel like sampling either, not until this evening reveals his fate.  
He’s nursing a lukewarm coffee and Jesus, he’d kill for a cigarette! Does he still have a stash somewhere?!  
  
The minutes pass on the clock. His hands are damp and his knee is bouncing.  
“Where is he?”  
The familiar, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach is being replaced by a swarm of fluttery butterflies.  
“If he doesn’t get here, soon I *am* going to puke,” he says to no one.  
  
The duck walks past the living room then, with the chick tailing. Chandler turns to them, eyebrow arched.  
“Can you give me some privacy, please?”  
  
The lock clicks a minute later, and all the blood rushes to Chandler’s feet.  
Oh my God! he jumps. It’s happening!  
  
Joey lets the door shut behind him and immediately his face broadens into a dazzling smile when he sees Chandler.  
God help me, Chandler whispers under his breath.  
  
“Hey, do I smell pizza?”  
“Yeah, yeah, it just got here. I figured you’d be hungry.”  
“You figured right!”  
Chandler licks his lips, pulse racing. Joey looks so good and Chandler can barely control his ragged breathing.  
  
“How’d the audition go?” He’s afraid if he gets up off the stool he’ll fall over.  
Joey tilts his chin down and frowns.  
“Nah, I don’t think I got it. I misread the announcement. I thought they were auditioning for a blind character, so I went there with a pair of sunglasses.”  
  
“What were they looking for, Joe?” Chandler follows him with his eyes.   
“A BLOND character,” he puts an emphasis on blond, his eyes bugging out like it was something obvious that he should have known.   
  
“I figured that out quick when I walked into the room and saw 20 guys that looked like Ian Ziering.”  
The burning desire to stand up and take him in his arms is overwhelming. Instead, Chandler gives him a slanted pout.  
“I’m sorry, Joe.”  
Jesus Christ, Chandler thinks. It’s when you pull stuff like this that I love you even more. Everything about you is so incredibly endearing.   
  
“It’s okay,” Joe shrugs with only the corners of his plump mouth. “There’ll be other auditions. And luckily I’ve got Days.”  
Surveying the room, Joe drops the sack on the counter next to the pizzas.  
“Where are the chick and the duck?”  
  
“In the bathroom,” Chandler indicates with a lift of his head. “Something about the duck having a date tonight.”  
Joey chuckles, his expression softening. He meets Chandler’s gaze and a breath sticks in his lungs.  
He wishes Chandler knew just how happy he makes him. He’s been wanting to tell him… each time the words just drag in his head, though, like a helium balloon being pulled.  
The sentiment is still stuck somewhere behind his teeth.  
  
“What’s in the bag?” Chandler points.  
“Oh this? It’s a meatball sub.”  
  
Chandler straightens. “THE meatball sub? The best sandwich in the world?” Pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, he peeks inside.  
“The one and only,” Joey beams, his chestnut eyes bright.  
  
“Well, I’ll put the pizza away if you’re gonna have that.”  
“Oh don’t worry. I have room,” Joey says, patting his stomach.  
“But I’m not eating it. Not alone, anyway.”  
Joey’s cheeks flush crimson and Chandler's follow suit.   
  
“What?” Now Chandler’s frazzled.  
  
“You’ve been looking thin, Chandler,” he sighs. “I didn’t want to mention it because I thought maybe it was something personal, you know? I know when you worry you don’t eat.”  
  
Wow. Joey noticed.  
“Yeah, you do know me... I don’t eat when I’m nervous.”  
  
“Well, you need to eat!” Joe looks at him directly. “I’m Italian, my impulse to nurture is genetic. And I love ya, Chandler, and I’m worried about ya. So we’re sharing this sandwich.”  
His finger taps on the tile.  
“They only had enough meatballs left for one, otherwise I would have gotten us one each.”  
  
There’s a wisp of inky hair falling over Joey’s forehead. Chandler wants to reach out, fix it. He watches every smooth movement Joe makes and wonders how those hands would graze against his bare skin… how many whimpers would those lips coax out of him?  
What’s the weight of a feather, he wonders. That’s how lightly Chandler wants to kiss each of his fingers.  
  
“You’re sharing this sandwich with me? Last time you only gave me a bite,” his voice is barely a whisper, his face twisted up in emotion.  
Joey looks down at his feet, heat stealing into his core. “Well, things are different now. Maybe I’m different. Maybe I’m changing, Chandler.”  
  
“I don’t know what to say.” Chandler’s melting into a puddle of hormones and liquid emotion. Call for cleanup!   
When was the last time someone showed him such tenderness? When was the last time someone made him feel like he was thoughtful of _his_ needs?!  
Easy. Never. Only Joey Tribbiani has.   
  
“Don’t tell anyone else, though,” Joey winks, a deep, savoring breath making his chest rise and fall. “Don’t want Ross getting any ideas. The only person Joey shares food with is Chandler.”  
  
“That means a lot, Joe.” _More than you know.  
_ “Well, it’s true, “ Joey clears his throat, focusing his attention elsewhere.   
“My nonna always says that feeding someone you care about when they’re sick or upset is an act of love.” The sudden lump in Joey’s throat is hard to swallow back.  
  
“Really? So the sandwich is like love?” Every hair on Chandler’s scalp is standing to attention, every skin cell tingling, every neuron firing.  
  
“Yeah, course.” Lifting it in his hands like a tribute, Joey’s hands quiver. “This meatball sub, Chandler, is love."  
"Wow," Chandler's voice trails off.   
"I’m worried about ya. I hear ya tossing and turning. You’ve obviously got something on your mind.”  
  
Chandler’s thoughts are a jumble, and that's putting it mildly. What the??  
Joey’s stare is alarmingly direct, and the yearning look there is undeniable. Chandler can’t believe it, thinks he’s imagining it all.   
Wishful thinking??  
  
“Gimme a minute to get changed. We’re gonna sit down, share this sandwich, and you’ll tell me what’s wrong. Deal?”  
He really just needs a moment to calm himself.   
“Yeah, Joe. Deal.”  
“All right!”  
_

  
Joe shuts the door and presses his back into it. Rib-stretching breaths aren't helping him calm down.  
  
Back in the living room, Chandler stares at the sub.  
The sandwich is love. _The sandwich is love_.

It’s a split. A tear in time and space. All the suppressed longing, the pining. It’s too much.  
Grabbing the plate, he crosses the living room to Joey’s room and knocks lightly with his knuckles.  
It's now or never.   
  
“Joey?”  
Joey drags the door, pulling his head through the t-shirt hole with one hand. "Yeah Chand?"  
  
Chandler stares at the plate, blinks at Joey, two pools of devotion for eyes.  
He offers him the sub… and his heart, by gliding the plate through the air.   
  
“I want you to have all of it,” Chandler sibilates, blankly watching the emotions play on Joey’s face.  
  
Joe bites into his lip, then lets his jaw drop slightly. While Chandler’s blinking, Joey wills himself to keep his open. Allowing his eyes to be dazzled.  
  
“You not hungry, Chandler?” A low and pleasant hum is warming his blood.  
“No, Joe. That’s not it. You said the sandwich was love, right?” Chandler stuffs his hands in his pockets once Joey takes the plate. He shifts from one foot to the other.  
“Yeah. The sandwich is love.” Dark orbs bore into Chandler’s.   
  
“I want you to have it _all_ , Joey.” The fringe of his lashes casts shadows on his cheeks. He waits.   
  
The pregnant pause says more than they have. Chandler shut his eyes, summons a deep inhale, and confesses.  
“Each new day without you knowing my ache is like a wounded sigh inside me. I can’t keep doing this. I’m in love with you, Joe.”  
  
There was a picture in a book his nonna had once, of Scottish highlands and small lochs. Chandler’s eyes are the same color, tinged with the same melancholy that Joey’s seen in his own lately.  
Those pleading eyes are holding him hostage.  
  
His mouth forms the right shapes, but nothing's coming out.   
Something in the air perfumes of juniper and Joey thinks if he reached out and just inhaled the molecules tickling Chandler’s lips, it’d be like kissing gin, it'd be like kissing Chandler.   
Inebriating wouldn’t begin to describe it.  
  
Tripped up on the angles of his face, Joey’s hand extends and stops just short of his roommate’s thrumming chest.  
  
“Chandler,” the name rolls sweet like honey off his lips. “You… you really love me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small timeline change to make the chick and the duck work :=)  
> Sorry for the delay. I meant to put this up yesterday but had a work issue. Hope you liked it! Stay tuned for more!


	3. Own Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chandler and Joey come to terms with their feelings.

There exists unrequited love. Poor timing. There can be misaligned emotions or two pining lovers who never find the courage to reveal what their innermost souls long for.  
And then sometimes… with the help of luck or divine intervention or call it by what fits best- the years that two friends spend in each other’s presence slowly tether them. So much so that one day each wake in their respective beds, one unknowingly finishing the other’s thoughts.  
“I think I-“ …  
“… I love him.”  
  
_  
  
“Chandler,” the name rolls sweet like honey off Joey’s lips. “ _You… you really love me_?”  
It’s like his nerves are firing all at once now that Chandler is within his grasp. Joey sets the plate on his dresser without even looking if it lands safely. The ridge of the ceramic extends precariously over the side.  
  
Joey walks Chandler out past the threshold by advancing forward. Back into the light, back into the living room, back into a safe place where he can study the object of his desire better.  
This is where their love began, after all. Evenings and weekends spent on their loungers, in the kitchen eating take-out and making pancakes for Sunday breakfast.   
  
Joey’s hand closes the gap and finally lands on his roommate’s breast. (It’s not a romantic comedy. There’s no sappy music cued to make the audience cry).  
Chandler’s lips tremble with the desire to smile because as he’s looking into Joey’s watery eyes, the warmth of his palm a brand against his heart, he doesn’t read rejection. Far from it.  
The acknowledgment of the sentiment is like the sun peeking from behind the clouds on a grey, winter’s day.  
  
“Chand?” Joe begs, his black brow creasing.  
Questing, toying with a reply, Chandler’s sky eyes dart to his feet, then come up again to fix their gaze steadily on Joey’s face. Chandler nods, clasping his hand over the one measuring the rhythm of his thudding heart.  
“I do, Joe. I love you.”  
  
He’s waiting for Joey to say something- perhaps make a speech about how deep down he knew. How Joey had noticed Chandler’s lack of appetite and nocturnal agitations but also his stares always lingering. That his best friend had been buying his favorite brand of beer and leaving little chocolates in a bowl on the counter because he remembered that Joey always grabs a little sweet on his way out to taping Days.  
  
Instead of filling the silence with all those truths, the ache rises to the surface. Joe’s mind flashes through a View Master of sliding, stolen moments.  
The way Chandler thinks he’s being sly, peering at him over the end of the newspaper in the morning, but Joey notices.  
Chandler beaming when Joey shares his fries with him- neither saying anything about their double dipping into the ketchup. Chandler leaning in a little too close when Joe asks him to cut off the itchy tags on his sweaters.  
  
Jesus, Chandler’s been in love with him for months but was so terrified of losing Joey… and Joe willfully ignored all the signs. Why didn't _he_ say something sooner?!  
  
Joey doesn’t have room to talk- he’s been as much of a mess as Chandler. Fiddling absent-mindedly with the corner of his coffee cup on the set of Days, wondering if Chandler’s constantly on his mind because they’re friends, or perhaps it's because Chandler’s been so sweet to him and it's finally worked its way inside him...   
Joey wonders if he’s always losing the thread of conversations because it’s maybe Ross or Monica who are boring… or is he paying attention to someone else in the room?  
Does he hear Chandler tossing and turning because also _he’s_ up, equally disturbed by thoughts of a paramour?  
  
“Lately Chand… “ Joey starts, and Chandler’s breath hitches. Is Joey about to… ? - Then the sound of quacking interrupts them.  
  
They both snap their heads in its direction, Joey screaming “Give us a minute!” and Chandler quipping “I told you I needed some privacy!”  
The duck waddles back into the bathroom, complaining to the chick about how rude they are.  
  
“Um, you were saying, Joe?” Chandler refocuses, his ribs expanding as he draws deep breaths. Dipping his face slightly, everything in his expression begs _Were you mentioning you love me?_  
  
Joey smiles faintly, running his right index finger along the edge of Chandler’s shirt collar, up the cord of his long neck. A moist palm cups Chandler’s burning cheek.  
“Chand… my mind’s been elsewhere lately. Even when we’re in the group, I only pay attention to what you say. I’m only lookin’ _at you_.”  
  
Chandler swallows so hard you can see his Adam’s apple bob.   
“I’ve been day dreaming a lot… “ Joe continues in a soft voice, failing at controlling his emotions. “About you. Us.”  
His big chocolate eyes gloss over, all the muscles in his face softening at its edges.  
  
“You have? About me?” Chandler repeats, bowing slightly towards him.  
“Yeah,” a slow grin builds on Joey’s mouth. His beautiful mouth. Chandler thinks he might be the most handsome man he’s ever seen.  
  
His fingers fan out on Joey’s shoulder, tingling with the need to touch. Every word speeds up his already quickening pulse.  
“Joe, are you saying you have feelings for me?”

Wrenching himself away from his ridiculous, almost embarrassing appraisal of Chandler’s arresting face, the hunger gnawing at his insides, Joey brackets his head and searches his lit gaze.  
“I’m sayin’ I love you, too.”

The words make the love swell burstingly in Chandler’s breast. Desire burns a spot in the pit of his belly. Joey’s got him pinned with his magnetic eyes.  
“Joe, I-“  
“Shh…”  
  
Their first kiss is slow. Thoughtful. Joey’s soft lips press against his, gently covering his mouth. With a sigh, Chandler takes in the velvet warmth, one hand still on the roundness of Joe’s shoulder but the other carding up his nape into the silkiness of his hair.  
  
The tip of Joe’s tongue begs entrance, nudging against the seal of his lips. Chandler parts them, letting him possess his mouth fully. Joe’s heart beats faster as his mouth moves with more insistence, slowly increasing the pressure of his lips.  
The caress sets Chandler’s body aflame.   
  
“Joey,” they break, panting. “Joey, I- “  
Knees loosening, Chandler feels weak. For him, for all the time spent wondering what THIS would be like and Christ did it surpass all his expectations.  
“Joe, I need you. I want to…”  
  
Hands clench, then release the fabric of Joe’s sweater knotted into his fists. Something shifts inside Joey, a pang of want, when he tests the yearning tensing Chandler.  
“I want you, too, Chand, but are ya sure?”  
  
Thoughts fragment in each man for different reasons, but on Chandler's end he isn't afraid. He draws Joey near as his hands and lips continue their urgent exploration. “I think we’ve been waiting years, Joe. It’s been too long. I’m sure.”

Joey wags his head. Grabs him by the front of his shirt, guiding Chandler back into the bedroom.  
Chandler’s limbs cling to him as they fall into bed, almost in a desperate gesture of abandon. Arms encircling his neck, Joe draws him up for another kiss.  
And another.  
And another.

Chandler’s heart races as clothes start to drift to the corners of the bed, to the floor.  
Harder, louder is the pounding between his temples and the throbbing of his sex.   
His skin tingles, his mind fizzling.

“Chand," Joey breathes against his slick pout, "have you done this with a man before?”   
Chandler chuckles in his famous, self-deprecating way. “Joe, I’ve barely done this with women.”

They both let out a spontaneous giggle, Joe cupping his smooth cheeks. Kissing his eyelids, then the tip of his nose.   
“I’ll take it slow, Chandler. You tell me what you’re comfortable doing and if we need to stop, we stop. You're in control, okay?”  
“Yeah, Joe. Of course,” he replies, throat thickening with devotion. He'd expect nothing less from him. Nothing less.   
  
Finding a bit of courage, he craves more, his tongue roving over Joey’s with rough thrusts.  
Joe pulls off with a smirk, pinching his chin with two fingers. “I think you’ll do just fine, Chandler. Just fine.”

_

Glazed in sweat and salt, Joey holds Chandler so close he can feel the softness of his hair against his mouth. Joe plants half a dozen kisses on the top of his head, and Chandler smiles against his pec with sweet gratification.   
“You okay, Chand?” Joe whispers softly into him, rubbing his back.   
“I’m perfect, Joe. Perfect.” Chandler traces circles into his bicep with gentle strokes, their breathing finally regular.  
  
Chandler’s eyes, blue like a fleecy sky, gaze up at him adoringly. "This is better than anything I could have ever imagined."   
Joe’s bruised, grape-pulp lips slide over his once more, and Chandler lets out a little whimper.  
"For me too, Chandler. I don't know how many times I stopped myself from knockin' on your door at 3 am when I heard you tossin'."  
  
Joey was a perfect gentleman. A generous and patient lover, even though there was no need for the latter. Chandler fell into the intuition of the moment without hesitation or difficulty.   
By the end, each chased their release in an almost desperate effort to make up for lost time. When Chandler collapsed against Joe’s heaving chest, he trembled like a branch bracing winter winds. His skin still burned from the memory of Joey’s touch, the feel of his sex.   
Joe, in kind, shivered from the intensity of what he'd been suppressing, finally culminating in something so powerful he struggled to wrap his head around it.  
Joey Tribbiani often didn't give much weight to sex, able to do it without attaching too much sentiment. But now he'd done it with someone he loved, and it was something that shattered his perception of intimacy in the best way possible. 

“I love you so much, Joe.” It's barely a whisper in the darkness.  
Joe knew. He knows. Maybe he’d known all along this is where they'd end up?  
“Me too, Chandler. Me too.”  
  
It's an afterthought when Joey's stomach rumbles a moment later.   
"Hey Chandler?"   
"What, Joe?" he props himself up on one elbow.   
"Wanna share the meatball sub now? I'm STARVING."  
  
_  
  
Mike's got his back pressed into the counter. He passes the rag over the dish and hands it to Phoebe, who places it on top of the stack already dried.   
"Hey," she swivels in her spot. "Did I tell you the latest?"  
"No. What's up?"  
His hand stuffs the cloth inside the coffee cup and twirls. The sparkle in her eyes tells him it must be some juicy gossip. She can't help herself.   
"I saw Chandler today. He's in love with Joey! He's telling him- " a glance at the clock confirms it - "probably right about now."   
  
Mike's bluebell eyes narrow, his back becoming ramrod straight. "Joey and Chandler? Really?"   
Phoebe holds the glass up to the light, scrutinizing its clarity. "I think you missed a spot. But I'm not Monica so I don't give a crap."  
When the last dish is safely stored, she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest. "Why? You don't see it? I think they're perfect for each other. Plus they're already best friends."   
  
After a minute's reflection, his dark head bobs. "You know, I think you're right. They balance each other out. Joey's sweet and kind of a flake, and Chandler's uptight but grounded. Each bring something the other needs."  
"Kind of like we do," she grins, stealing a kiss.   
"Are you insinuating I'm a flake?" he jokes.   
  
Phoebe slaps him playfully on the arm, to which he replies with a fake "Ow."  
"Do you think Joe has feelings for Chandler?"  
Mike plucks a cookie off the dish, his mouth open enough for the edge to touch his tongue. Phoebe grabs it from him as soon as he takes a bite.   
  
"I put those out for the ghost."  
Mike inclines his head, swallowing what little he got. Ghost? What now?!  
"um... Ghost?"  
"Yeah," Pheebs shrugs. "Obviously my apartment has a ghost."  
  
An ironic grin smears across his face. This is his Phoebe. "Of course it does. And the spirit likes oatmeal raisin cookies?"  
"Uh-huh," she replies with satisfaction. "You can have the chocolate chip ones."   
Swirling her finger to indicate the cupboard to his left, Phoebe continues.  
"Anyway, I think Joey definitely has feelings for him. I heard he shared his fries with Chandler like twice already. The one thing you don't know about him: Joey doesn't share food."   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update took longer than I expected, but I had writer's block and I was very on the fence with how to handle their intimacy. While I have no problem writing smut, this just doesn't seem like the right place for explicit sexual descriptions. I'm happy with the balance I found.  
> Hope you agree.
> 
> I might keep this story going if y'all are interested in reading more?? Let me know in the comments! :) I'd like to write Rachel as well.  
> And thank you for the amazing support on this, my first Friends fic. You've really shown me a lot of love and I truly appreciate it.  
> Please don't be shy I love to hear from my readers!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your time! If you liked it please feel free and encouraged to kudo or comment. I'm very happy to engage with my readers. <3  
> (And stay safe! since this is being written in dire times).


End file.
